


kintsukuroi

by AngelycDevil



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergent, Erik Killmonger - Character study (ish), Erik Killmonger Lives, Erik doesn't die, Erik's journey to Happiness and Home, M/M, eventual t'cherik
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 13:18:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13741731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelycDevil/pseuds/AngelycDevil
Summary: "There is a crack in everything. That is how the light gets in.”– Leonard CohenErik doesn't believe in finding a home anymore. T'Challa gives him one anyway.





	kintsukuroi

They fall.

Decades of rigorous combat training, but a twist of an ankle shoves them both off the ledge of the track. They gripe at each other as gravity slows around them, trying to find a purchase. In a distance, a _clank_ signals the staff clattering to the floor. It sounds too far away. T’Challa’s eyes drift close when he feels a piercing pain in his chest…

~.o0o.~

He’s not falling anymore.

T’Challa moves his fingers lightly as he gulps in lungfuls of air. He’s lying on a coarse surface. The air is tinged with paint and cement… _gun oil_ …

He snaps his eyes open and dashes to the nearest wall.

“Where am I?”

The room is shades of sunset orange, but the architecture is smothering. Small. T’Challa recognizes various Wakandan trinkets lying around…their tribal blanket on the wall…a table filled with guns and repair tools.

“What is this place?”

“Home.” T’Challa whips around to see Erik enter from the kitchen. He’s in casual clothes, a soft hoodie and jeans. His gold necklace no longer holds their family’s ring. “ _My_ home anyway.”

T’Challa swallows and averts his eyes from Killmonger to the beautiful pink and purple shades of Wakandan skies before sunrise. “We are in the ancestral plane?”

“Seems like it.”

“This is not possible. The ceremony—”

“Oh, please. We were fighting amongst Vibranium. That’s what in the herb juice, right?”

Right. _Right_. How did he—

“Look how you’ve grown,” a deeper voice chimes in. Both their heads snap towards a man with kind eyes and a strong smile.

“ _Uncle._ ”

N'Jobu laughs. “Look at how the both of you have grown.” He raises his hands, gesturing for both of them to come closer. They glance at each other before stepping into the embrace. “I’m glad,” he says, pulling back, his hands cupping both their faces. “I thought I might never get to see you out here.”

“Why? Why are we here? Why are you—”

“I betrayed Wakanda.”

T’Challa stiffens. “You are _of_ _Wakanda_. You should rest with our ancestors,” he insists, ignoring how Erik turns to look at him in his periphery. “Royal blood runs through your veins.”

N'Jobu scoffs. “There’s not much I can do about it, now can I?”

“I am sorry, Uncle. I—Zuri only told me after the ceremony, I did not—”

“Calm down, boy. Isikuni sinyuka nomkwezeli.”

T’Challa grits his teeth. “As you wish.” He shuffles back, letting his uncle and Erik talk, and looks around the apartment more closely.

The picture of his Uncle’s life after Wakanda falls into place like puzzle pieces. He’s known his uncle to be a kind, strong-willed man. The essence of a man does not change that dramatically without reason. Seeing these living quarters and the bleak streets below combined with his own experiences outside of Wakanda, he can understand better his uncle’s decisions. He cannot fathom the desperation he must have felt, living this life. He imagines it similar to the one Nakia speaks of, yearns after as she breaks apart criminal rings selling people, _their_ people, like livestock.

And his father had not even listened to his own brother. He was so focused on preserving Wakanda that he’d forgotten that an entire world exists outside the borders of Wakanda.

His Uncle had been killed because he was trying to better the world. He went about it in the wrong way, sure, but _at least he tried_.

Instead of listening to him, his father left him behind to _rot_. He did not even bring him back to Wakanda, give him a resting place amongst our ancestors as was his birthright. This was not his father’s right to deny. His father had been wrong to leave his brother behind. To leave his brother’s child behind. His father was wrong.

His father was _wrong._

The apartment trembles around them. T’Challa straightens, curling his hands into fists, and falls into a defensive stance. Weapons do not work in this plane.

“What is this?” T’Challa looks back to see N'Jobu moving closer to Erik.

“I do not know.”

The floor beneath them quivers and the room slowly grows brighter until T’Challa cannot bear it anymore. He throws his arms up against the blinding light and misses the world shifting under his feet. When he opens his eyes the next time, he’s home. He whips around, relaxing when he sees Erik and N'Jobu present. A little beyond them, their ancestors have noticed their arrival, sitting up amongst the branches, their lips pulling back into a snarl.

Annoyance clouds T’Challa’s mind and he steps forward before any of them can say anything. “I have brought back my Uncle to his rightful place.”

One of the panthers jumps to the ground and shifts into his father. Another follows, Zuri. T’Challa chest loosens. Zuri is safe. Honored.

Zuri approaches N'Jobu first while his father remains frozen at the sight of his brother. Perhaps that’s where he gets it from…

With open palms and tight eyes, Zuri approaches N'Jobu. “I know there is much to be said between you and I, but know that I am glad you are here.”

“Then why did you not come and _get me_ ? I was right where you left me,” N'Jobu snarls, anger tightening his words. “Why did you not take my son _home_?”

Zuri’s shoulders sag.

“Yeah.” N'Jobu pulls back, nods slightly to himself in jerky movements. “That’s what I thought.”

T’Challa looks to his father, wondering when he is going to step in. Zuri had been a healer. This decision was clearly his father’s. He has spent days, twisting his father’s decisions and explanations in his mind. It’s not _enough_. He cannot even imagine harming Shuri, no matter what she does. That was the relationship his father helped foster between his children. Yet, with his own brother…

His father does not move, but he looks to T’Challa. “Why have you brought him here?”

 _By Bast—_ “Because this is where he belongs. He is of royal blood. He is Wakandan. I have brought him to his _home_ ,” he spits out.

“He is adopted.”

“He is—”

“T’Chaka,” Zuri chides sharply, interrupting T’Challa’s heated response, and his father’s face falls.

“No, it is alrig—” N'Jobu begins, but his father waves off.

“I apologize, brother. I…” He takes a deep breath. “I am glad you are here. That T’Challa was able to bring you here. I—what I did to you was the one decision I have regretted for my life. I thought you would be here when I came. I-I used to imagine what I would say to you. I have had years to prepare myself for this moment, but I—”

N'Jobu smirks despite the tears in his eyes. “But you froze.”

“I am sorry,” his father blurts out. “Please forgive me. I should’ve listened to you, at least. I should’ve…I may not have agreed with you, but I…you…”

“I am not ready to forgive you,” N'Jobu interrupts his father. “But, we are brothers. We are family. That means something.” His uncle moves forward and grabs T’Chaka by his shoulders. “You betrayed me, brother, but we will get past this. We have all the time in the world, after all.”

His father smiles through his tears, looking young for the first time in many years as if an indescribable weight has lifted off his body. “T’Challa will bring your body home. We will bury you in Wakanda, a proper burial fit for a member of our family. You will stay,” T’Chaka insists, his eyes fervent on his brother.

N'Jobu smiles and embraces his brother tight. “Thank you.”

T’Challa looks from the sobbing duo to Zuri who nods at him with pride. T’Challa swallows his own tears and watches as Zuri walks to Erik. Whatever he says, the tightness of Erik’s body loosens slightly and vulnerability flashes through his face. T’Challa idly wonders if Erik ever had a proper mentor, someone who he could depend on, someone who cared for him without any ulterior motive. He cannot imagine his own life without the guidance of the village that raised him. Every single person he has been proud to call family have been instrumental in who he is today. Who shaped Erik? Who did Erik learn from? Who did he go to for advice? Who does he consider important? Who would he give his life for?

“You should return soon before I decide to get selfish and wish for you to stay here.” His father’s warm baritone cuts through his thoughts. He blinks and realizes he has been staring at Erik. He quickly averts his eyes to his father’s amused ones.

He bites down a blush although he is not entirely sure why. “It was good seeing you again, baba.”

T’Chaka scoffs gently and rests his hand on the side of T’Challa’s face as he has done so many times before. “Today, you returned a piece of my home to me, my son. One I refused to believe that I have been missing. You are going to make a _wonderful_ king to Wakanda and her people will be lucky to have you guiding them through this new era. I am so proud of you and I know your mother and your sister are too.”

T’Challa ducks his head and smiles. “Thank you, baba. I am glad I could…”

“You were right,” his father speaks when T’Challa is unable to find the correct words. “To stand up to me. To bring him here. And you will be right with whatever decision you make with N’Jadaka. Try not to doubt yourself too much. You are a good man. A _better_ man than I.” He quickly hushes T’Challa when he tries to speak. “You should go back now. Your mother and sister must be worried. And I know I failed N’Jadaka, but when you can, show him Wakanda.”

“Yes, baba.”

T’Chaka smiles and pats his son on his cheek. “Go on, now. Go.”

Then, with a quick sensation of dropping, T’Challa gasps awake. He’s on his feet, stumbling, as his mind acclimates to another plane. The soft glow of Vibranium smells like home and he looks around, but he cannot find Erik.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are appreciated! Just don't be a dick lol


End file.
